Give Thanks For Nothing
by Lost Inc
Summary: The gaang quickly learns why Thanksgiving should never, ever be celebrated in the Fire Nation...EVER.


**Give Thanks for Nothing**

Summary: Ever wondered how everyone's favorite dysfunctional Fire Nation dynasty celebrates Thanksgiving? A series of Avatar Thanksgiving drabbles that will make you hungry for more.

Disclaimer: We do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. We are but simple yam farmers trying to make a living in this hard, cruel world. …You'll see what we're talking about soon enough.

**Chapter One: **

The sun scaled the horizon with the fluid motion of a dragon mid-flight. As it rose, slowly, into the orange sky, it left the imperious peaks of the Fire Palace as a breath-taking silhouette. Nothing radiated greater dignity than this unfaltering structure. If walls could talk, the Fire Palace would remain silent in its unrivaled early-morning tranquili—

SMASH!!!

Well, so much for that. Let's see what those nut-jobs are up to this time.

"Sokka!" Katara screamed, her apron plastered in mashed yams. "What in the name of La do you think you're doing?!?"

Sokka stuck out his jaw obstinately as he replied, "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Well, in all honesty, you look like you're trying to trap Momo in the oven. I already told you, we're not eating him, no matter how badly you've been tempted to try fresh lemur meat!" Confidentially, she whispered, "It's considered impolite in the Fire Nation."

From inside the oven, Momo's ears twitched in dismay. He let out a long, anguished yowl of protest as he clawed the walls of his slowly-warming prison.

Katara sighed in frustration and opened the oven door. The upset animal darted out of his cell faster than Iroh moved when confronted with pre-packaged tea; nearly bowling over the pair of siblings in his mad dash for the hallway.

Sokka barely had time to recover from his lost lunch when he was accosted with a steely glare from his sister. "What?" he demanded. "I'm sorry already!"

"You made me drop the yams," said Katara in a low voice. "You know Zuko's counting on those yams!"

Sokka turned to her in confusion. "Why do you care so much about pleasing the Jerk Lord?"

Katara hid her reddening face behind her hair-loopies. She fell into a sullen silence. Fortunately, Sokka ignored this prime opportunity to humiliate his sister in favor of a far more satisfying activity: ranting about "Old Scarface."

"Spirits, he's been such a jerk lately, you know?"

Katara hastily recovered. "No, really?" she said sarcastically. "I suppose that's why you just called him the Jerk Lord."

Sokka shot her a death glare. "I'm just saying…"

"No," she cut him off. "I don't want to hear any more of your crackpot "Oooh, Zuko got abducted by spirits and had his brain scrambled," theories."

"You're just in denial, Katara! I mean, look at him! All the symptoms are there."

"Like what?" she demanded.

"Well, his obsession with yams for starters. He never mentioned once in all the time that we were traveling together that he even liked them, and now all of a sudden they're the only thing he ever talks about. And don't even get me started on the napkin holders!"

"Oh, come on, Sokka!" Katara sighed, planting her hands on her yam-splattered hips—not to say that she actually ate the yams and they went to her hips…of course not. We didn't mean anything like that. Please put down the knife, Katara. It says quite clearly to PLEASE KEEP OUT OF CHILDREN, you know.

Fingering the sharpened blade contemplatively while staring _somewhere _off to her left, Katara continued as if there hadn't been any interruption. That's something to be thankful for.

THANKFULNESS COUNT: 1

"He's trying to throw the perfect Thanksgiving feast. It's the first major festival since the end of the war, and he wants to put his best foot forward to show the rest of the world that they're welcome in the Fire Nation. What's wrong with that?"

"It's just a little weird that a hardened bad-ass like Zuko would burst into tears at the sight of a freaking potato."

"It's not a potato!" came a sharp rebuke from the doorway. "It's a yam!"

The Water Tribe siblings turned in time to notice the fine hunk of man meat framed by the doorway, who from here on out shall be known simply as Zuko—unless you would prefer to refer to said hunk of man meat as such.

THANKFULNESS COUNT: 2

"Oh, hey Zuko. Want to help me roast Momo?" Sokka asked before he was sharply elbowed in the side by an irate Katara.

"What did I tell you about that?" she warned him, reaching over to open the oven door. "And will you look at that! The little hellion got into the stuffing!"

Indeed he had. There were now little Momo prints and odd lumps of fur coating the top of the satiated side-dish. Katara was furious.

Grabbing her brother by the scruff of his shirt, she hissed, "I worked for four hours on that stuffing, Sokka…four hours…"

"That's a little obsessive," said Zuko offhandedly, apparently distracted as he scanned the kitchen. "By the way, Katara, have you seen the yams?"

Katara was very thankful at that moment that she had a fistful of Sokka's shirt, thus making her brother readily available to use as a human shield as she pulled him in front of her, hiding her yam-stained apron.

THANKFULNESS COUNT: 3

"Um…yeah…" she mumbled into Sokka's shoulder. "They're, uh…"

"What's that odd, yam-colored smudge on your apron, Katara?" Zuko asked suddenly, his eyes bulging a little.

"Well, it's certainly not yams," Katara said, barely smothering her nervous laughter. "It's, uh…um…well, you probably don't want to know this, but let's just say that Momo left a little surprise in the stuffing."

Zuko frowned in confusion. "He…um…he…defecates…"

"Momo shits in different colors!?" Sokka blurted, looking star-struck.

Katara shot him a withering look. "Yeah, Sokka. He tasted the rainbow."

"Wow," the Fire Lord murmured, running his hand through his hair. "I didn't know that."

THANKFULNESS COUNT: 4

"In any case," Zuko coughed, trying to look imposing yet inconspicuous—and failing miserably, "I wanted to have…erm…a look at the yams before they're cooked, Katara. You know…quality control and…um…stuff…"

Katara jumped. "No!" she cried. "You can't!"

Both men stared at her—Zuko in bemusement, Sokka in sheer disbelief that his sister was going to such lengths to enable an obvious psychological disorder in a world leader.

"Why not?" Zuko demanded, a tad bit roughly.

"Um…well…it's, uh….BAD LUCK!"

Sokka blinked, not having any idea what the hell was going on.

"Bad luck?" Zuko murmured to himself. "Really? Are you sure?" he asked, looking worried.

"Um…sure?"

"In that case," said the Fire Lord somberly, "I shall wait…"

A long silence followed, during which Zuko attempted to appear regal and unaffected. However, this image was promptly shattered as the disaffected youth threw himself at Katara's feet, clinging to her ankles.

"Oh, please, Katara! Just a peek! Just one yam…I beg of you on the grave of my mother…!"

"I thought your mother was still alive," said Sokka, scratching his stubble thoughtfully.

"Shut the hell up, Sokka!" both shouted in tandem—Zuko terrified that his claim would lose validity; and Katara worried that he would stop touching her.

Sokka stared at them for a moment, wondering where the sanity had gone. And then he remembered who he was dealing with: his crazed, hormonal sister, and the current occupant of the Fire Nation throne—whose ancestors were known for being crazy AND for being abducted by spirits…well, one of those was true, anyway.

"Why do you care so much about those stupid yams, anyway?"

An ominous silence filled the room—and suddenly, the Water Tribe boy realized that he had committed the most unpardonable of sins…he had insulted Zuko's yams. Slowly, the Fire Lord rose to his feet—ignoring Katara's mingled expression of fear and…oddly enough…disappointment.

It was as though Zuko were sizing him up, judging him the way a warrior might judge his mortal enemy—or perhaps in the way that Toph would eye high-heeled shoes…if she could see that is.

Seemingly coming to a decision, Zuko brandished a single finger towards Sokka's chest.

"SEIZE HIM!"

Without warning or hesitation, a pair of burly Fire Nation soldiers exploded out of a nearby vegetable drawer, tackling the startled young man to the floor. After a moment of struggle, the guards managed to hoist the feisty captive to his feet.

"What's the big idea!?" Sokka blurted, his eyes wild. "And what were they doing hiding in the vegetable drawer, anyway???"

"They were guarding the yams," said Zuko simply, coming to stand directly in front of him, his arms crossed behind his back, military style.

"Can someone please tell me what's going on?!? What is the freaking deal with all these yams???"

Zuko glared at him menacingly. "We will tell you…but it will be a long, sad, and sorry tale that will chill the very blood in your veins…or at least, it will make you very, very uncomfortable…and hungry. Very, very hungry."

"But I'm always hungry!"

"SILENCE, YOU!!!" he snarled, flames coming out his mouth like an incensed dragon.

After all was quiet, a familiar voice intoned:

"It all started long, long ago…!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Oh, yes, Ozai! Spirits, yes!!!" Ursa groaned, twining her fingers through his mane of silky, black hair. "Do it again…! Oh…! Yes, Ozai! Yes!!!"

And that was how Fire Lord Zuko was conceived.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Not that story!!!" Zuko snarled, his face a bright red. "The OTHER story!!!"

THANKFULNESS COUNT: 5

Sokka was of a similar mind-set. Looking towards Katara with a traumatized expression, he murmured, "That really _did _chill the blood in my veins…"

AWKWARD MOMENT COUNT: 1

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A grossly middle-aged Sozin was merrily making his way down the downtrodden road of a heavily-abused Earth Kingdom village, whistling a tune as he gazed upon the beautiful scenery. It had been a good day—buildings were in flames, and a whole bunch of anonymous peasants had been taken as slaves to help him achieve his secret ambition of becoming a rodeo-clown.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Are you sure this is how it went?" Sokka asked skeptically.

"SILENCE, I SAY!"

The young man cringed in terror. "Yes, mam'!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Anyway, it wasn't long before the Fire Lord (not Zuko) laid eyes upon something that marred his good-spirits. A single potato farm lay unperturbed beneath the setting sun; not a single scorch mark in sight.

"Damn them!" Sozin growled, his fist instantly clenching as it became engulfed in blue flame. "One ALWAYS gets away, but not THIS time…! Soon there won't be a single spud left in this desolate potato field!!!"

Without warning, his monologue was cut short by the shrieking bark of a haggard old woman, dressed in a beaded shawl and a pair of spectacles that was too large for her face, making her resemble a demented beetle.

"It's not a potato field!" she screamed, swinging her hoe like a sword. "It's a yam farm! And these be my yams ye soldiers be desecratin'!"

"What's that?" Sozin mumbled, buttoning the front of his pants now that he had finished with some unattended business…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Wait," Sokka interrupted once more. "How could the guy be peeing on her yams if his hands were on fire, let alone buttoning his pants?"

"THAT'S IT! YOU'RE EXILED!!!"

"How can I be exiled if I'm not even a citizen?" he reasoned.

"SHUT UP!!! I'M THE ONE TELLING THE STORY HERE!!!"

"Can we get on with it?" Katara sighed, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "I have sea-prunes to stew, and they're not going to do it themselves…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It wasn't long before the entire field was aflame.

The old woman let loose a piercing wail, darting to the Fire Lord. Her gnarled hands grabbed at the front of his robes as she fell to her knees, begging him to spare her spuds. "Ye don't understand," she wheezed. "These yams be all I have in the world! They be like me own children!!!"

Sozin narrowed his eyes at her. "You _eat_ your own children???"

"Oh, like you don't!"

AWKWARD MOMENT COUNT: 2

And that was how Azulon became an only child (a burst of curiosity, a mid-life crisis, inbreeding, call it what you will).

"A curse on thee!" the old woman screeched, spit flying into Sozin's contemptible face. "A curse on thee and all thy children: until this war of thine be finished, never, except in the third year of life of one of your house, shall yams grace thy golden plates!"

"What a stupid curse," Sozin chuckled as he added (literal) fuel to the fire. "Why would I care about some stupid side-dish? And why the third year, anyway?"

The old woman smirked darkly. "What canst thou miss what thou hast not tasted on thy lips, Fire Lord Sozin?"

"Whatever. Ooh, a cabbage patch…!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"And there you have it," Zuko replied, winding the tragic tale to a close.

"So the moral of the story is to never piss off crazy old women with the power to curse your descendents…well, that, and the fact that Zuko's family is completely nuts, but we already knew that..."

Sokka paused and cocked his head in thought.

"I wish I had known that a few hours ago…" he muttered to himself.

"Enough of this," said Katara sternly. "Someone has to take Azula back to her room. She's starting to drool a little, and I just mopped an hour ago."

The princess in question was currently huddled in the corner, completely oblivious to her audience as she rocked backwards and forwards, her eyes darting around the room intently. Eventually, her gaze flickered to Zuko.

"Zuzu, I want to tell the story again!" she crooned, a placid smile on her face.

"Suuure," said the Fire Lord, looking hopefully towards the guards. Catching the hint, his subordinates abruptly dropped Sokka to the floor and moved cautiously towards Azula.

"Now, Princess Azula," one of them began.

"FIRE LORD!" she barked, startling them both. "You are to address me as FIRE LORD Azula!"

Glancing nervously towards Zuko for permission, and receiving a hesitant nod in return, the guard took her gently by the elbow. "Of course, your Highness. Now let us escort you back to your room…"

Giggling quietly to herself, Azula allowed herself to be shepherded out of the kitchen and down the hall. Zuko, finally deciding that there were no yams to be had, hastily followed.

THANKFULNESS COUNT: 6

"Well, thank La that's over," said Sokka, breathing a sigh of relief. "Now, off to catch Momo!"

Katara watched helplessly as her impulsive older brother dashed out of the room, laughing triumphantly. Wearily, she sank into a nearby chair, burying her forehead in the palm of her hand. "Why me?" she asked no one in particular, her eyes drifting to what was once a bubbling pot of boiling yams.

At that moment, Toph chose to stick her head around the doorway. "Hey, Sugar Queen, what was all the racket in here?" she asked. Then, sniffing the air curiously, she added, "And why does it smell like burnt lemur?"

It was the beginning of a migraine—Katara was sure of it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Coming Next Chapter: Of Fire Nation Thanksgivings Past


End file.
